


The End of Doctor Strange but Safir is Dormammu and Alistair is Doctor Strange

by PoboboProbably



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: All killing and no dark ritual makes Alistair a dead boy, Depressing, F/M, Miserable, Sad, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:26:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13420896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoboboProbably/pseuds/PoboboProbably
Summary: The moment Safir Tabris kills the Archdemon atop Fort Drakon. Or, that was the idea, anyway...





	The End of Doctor Strange but Safir is Dormammu and Alistair is Doctor Strange

There was no sound.

No smell. 

Nothing but the flashing of steel against a red sky. A rapidly shrinking shape setting off into the distance, dimming with each plant of a bloodstained boot. 

Seconds earlier the world was ablaze with sight and sound. A blast of purple here, a blur of daggers there, an apocalypse of smoke and fire raining down atop what was left of Fort Drakon, the rhythm of battle focusing her eyes, steadying her hands. _Just like the dragon at the temple_ , she thought. _Just like Flemeth_. The Archdemon had set fire to Denerim, laid waste to its buildings, slaughtered its people. But in the end, it was just another dragon. And it fell like just another dragon. Finally, a rest. The stench of fresh death erupted in her nostrils. Darkspawn littered the field. Smoke filled the air. Burning flesh seared in its plate armor. The corrupted god lay before them, spent.

It was on the verge of death then, its head lolling weakly back and forth, begging for one final stroke of steel. Safir took a step forward. Then another. But the third never came. Alistair grabbed her arm, told her to stop, told her he would go. Her protests went unheeded, brushed off by the assurance that the choice wasn't hers to make. Not this time. She begged him to let her go, to let her strike the final blow, but by then he had left her side and sentenced himself to death, leaving her broken, on her knees, still pleading for another chance at changing his mind. His rapidly shrinking shape had set off into the distance, dimmed by each plant of his bloodstained boots. 

No sound. No smell. A quick flash of steel against a red sky. An explosion of light. And then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. The blinding light replaced by a blinding dark as Safir recovered from the blast.

Sten struggled to lift his exhausted body from the floor. Wynne made no attempt to move, complaining of pain. But Safir didn't care. The ringing in her ear, the dryness of her mouth, the burned images staining her eyes, they all compelled her forward, forward to the smaller of the two corpses strewn in front of her. Alistair. His gauntlet shattered, revealing the charred flesh of his hand. His chest plate dented, no doubt the cause of the pooling blood that enveloped his torso. His face cut and burned on the left side, highlighting the still open eyes. The same eyes that shone brightly with every joke. The same eyes that roared with fire when they met Loghain's. The same eyes that held such loving light when they beheld a rose, now so empty. 

There was no sound. No smell. No light. As Alistair's body was a dead husk, so was Safir a living one. She closed her eyes, drawing her fingers over his, and stood. She felt nothing as she stepped through the wreckage and made her way to the fort's ground floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Reason for the title being what it is is that this is a moment that Safir relives constantly as she tortures herself, believing Alistair's death to be her fault.


End file.
